


(speechless) anytime i want

by montegobae



Series: random jams [1]
Category: K-pop, LOONA (Korea Band)
Genre: (hence the m rating), (kinda), Alternate Universe - Boxing, F/F, Rivals to Lovers, Songfic, also there are no men in this universe because i say so, and men are STUPID and so am i :), because we love a good, but he doesn't really exist, except for rocky, haseul and chuu are rival boxers!, haseul and jinsol are fwb, haseul and yeojin are sisters like always, he's just there for the sake of an allusion in a one-off line, no character death but they get pretty close, unbeta-ed because if i'm going out then i'm going out like a MAN, yves is haseul's coach aka minor character sorry yveseul nation :(
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-12
Updated: 2019-08-12
Packaged: 2020-08-19 21:42:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20216728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/montegobae/pseuds/montegobae
Summary: You're only allowed three great women in your lifetime. They come along like the great fighters, once every ten years. Rocky Marciano, Sugar Ray Robinson, Joe Lewis.Sometimes you get them all at once.Boxers!Chuuseul three-shot (very loosely) inspired by the song 'Winners Circle' by Anderson .Paak





	(speechless) anytime i want

**Author's Note:**

> hi! literally nobody expressed any interest in this type of fic whenever i tweeted about it but luckily idc about that! so here's this garbage! :D

“Hi again.” Haseul set the flowers next to Yeojin, pursed lips feigning a smile. The bouquet stood out from the others, fresh and green. Time’s toll had beaten the others beside them, and they had fallen gray.

“Sorry people keep sending you flowers. I know you hate them.” Haseul sat down. Her chair was just tall enough for her feet to whisper along the floor as she swung them back and forth, her eyes low and away. “I tried telling them that you’d prefer money, but they didn’t think it’d be appropriate. But it’s not like you’d care, right?” Though she laughed, she couldn’t bear to look at her.

Haseul breathed out. “Doctor says I’ll be fine. My knee—” She held it gingerly, regarding it carefully. A brace wrapped snugly about it. “—is getting better. So don’t worry about me.” She paused.

“I… Crazy. It’s actually kind of crazy. Looking at me, you wouldn’t think anything had happened, you know?” She dug fingernails into her chair’s sides. “Sorry again.”

She looked up to a speckled ceiling, still avoiding her. “I can imagine you’d say something like,

‘What are you even sorry for?’

“And I’d say something like,

‘That it was you. And not me.’”

“And then you’d probably say something nice and mean at the same time, because you’re you. And by that, I mean you’re a little shit.” A smile tugged at her lips. “Probably something like,

‘It wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t help it, just like how I couldn’t help taking all the good-looking genes in the family.’”

Haseul laughed again, fuller this time. “Don’t get a big head about this, but between the two of us, you’re the funnier one. But definitely not the prettier one.” Distracted, Haseul made the careless mistake of glancing Yeojin’s way.

Her eyes were sunken, and her skin was dull. With all the tubes and wires and equipment, she looked scarcely human, indistinguishable from the medical apparatuses which extended from her bed like gangly limbs. Haseul couldn’t tell if she was made of stone or dust. And sometimes, when her vision would blur, Haseul could nearly see through her, and her eyes would trace the line of the heart rate monitor behind her. But she wouldn’t touch her, not even when the silence would grab her by the ears and pull her in close, yelling for her to realize the situation. Because she feared most that if she reached out, her hand would fall through.

Haseul held her breath. Even though she’d been this way for a while, it was still a surprise each time.

A closing door broke her trance, and Haseul looked to the doctor entering the room. She held onto a clipboard, white-knuckled.

“Hello, Ms. Jo. How are you doing?”

Haseul cleared her throat. “I’m okay. I’ve been taking the meds.”

“Ah, good. Just… Remember what we talked about.”

Haseul sighed. “I know, I know.”

“Sorry, I’m just making sure.” The doctor stands before her, far enough that her shadow fails to reach Haseul’s chair. “I’m here to talk about your sister.”

Haseul squinted as she looked up at the doctor, the hospital lights shining harshly. “What about her?”

“We found a surgeon. The operation can be done.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

The doctor turned her head, letting tension drag its finger from ear to collar. A lone window looked out into the parking lot, framing it as if it were a still life. Meanwhile, Haseul felt swallowed whole. She was always in this room, but her car was never parked outside. If the window could tell its story, it would believe Haseul never ever left the hospital.

“So what’s the catch?” she asked bluntly.

The doctor matched her directness. “The procedure isn’t cheap. And recovery isn’t guaranteed. But I wouldn’t recommend being pessimistic about it. Many patients don’t even get a chance.”

“Being realistic isn’t pessimistic.”

“And being hopeless isn’t realistic.”

Haseul scoffed, crossing her arms. “Now weren’t you rather quick with that?”

Ignoring her obvious snark, the doctor pushed forward. “Ms. Jo, if you would lend your ear, we could discuss payment. The hospital will cover a respectable fraction of costs, as will your insurance. Your out-of-pocket expenses will depend on—”

The doctor was interrupted by a chair leg scraping the floor, Haseul jolting her seat slightly by crossing one leg over the over. Haseul turned to look at the gray flowers.

Forced to restart, the doctor pressed two fingers onto her temple, kneading it. “Ms. Jo.” Her voice was painted with pity. “I know you’re going through a lot. First, it was… Your mother…”

Haseul clenched her jaw.

“… Look. I know you care a lot about your sister. And I know it’s hard to see the light.” She waved her clipboard vaguely in Yeojin’s direction. “But _she_ needs you to put aside your own ideas and outlook, and just have a little bit of _hope_, okay? Can you do that? For her? Can we start talking like adults?”

Her words crashed and tumbled before Haseul’s feet like waves. Haseul could not escape the rip current which took her suddenly, for she didn’t know how. All she could manage was staying afloat. Now, this was no longer an issue of what she knew, but of how long she could continue before her legs stopped kicking. Only with hesitation did affirmation slip from her lips.

“Okay. Let’s talk about it.”

-

Jinsol stirred her coffee with a fork, turning her drink a caramel color. Sugar packets and half-and-half lay all over the table, carelessly discarded. Once everything dissolved, she brought the fork to her mouth. A single drop fell from a prong onto her tongue, and she recoiled from the bitterness. Her fork was dropped, left to lie amongst Jinsol’s garbage. Another casualty of the morning war.

“Oh, God. They always told me I’d start liking coffee once I grew up, but this tastes like _shit_. Like, I’d rather be tired than drink anymore of this.” Emphasizing her point, Jinsol yawned. The sunrise cast an orange haze onto half of her face. With genuine hurt, she whined, “Why would they lie about adulthood? That’s just messed up.”

“First of all, I don’t even know who ‘they’ are.” Haseul sipped her dark roast. “Nor do I know any sane person who would stir their drink with a fork.”

“I didn’t get a spoon!” Jinsol exclaimed, drawing unwanted attention from their waitress and the other diner patrons. Haseul chuckled as Jinsol blushed and leaned forward, cupping a hand around her mouth to whisper, “I think this restaurant is trying to sabotage me.”

Haseul whispered back, “I don’t think so. You do a pretty good job sabotaging yourself.”

Jinsol punched Haseul’s shoulder, then slumped back into her side of the booth.

“Watch it, Rocky! One more injury and I’m out of a job.” Haseul dramatically rubbed her shoulder.

Refusing to apologize, Jinsol instead tried to blow a piece of hair out of her face. Unfortunately, more hair took its place, and she receded further into her seat. Despite towering over her when standing, Jinsol appeared even smaller than Haseul.

“Aw, you big baby.” Haseul reached across the table to tuck the stray hair behind her ear, watching its tip begin to glow red. “There you go.”

“Thank you,” Jinsol muttered, the corners of her mouth curling upwards.

“No problem. Cheers.” Haseul lifted her mug, shaking it slightly. Jinsol quickly picked her own drink up, letting their cups clink together before immediately setting it back down. On the other hand, Haseul took a long sip, feeling her eyes open and ears clear as the brew warmed her throat. Each girl kept their hands wrapped around their own drink. Jinsol sat patiently, waiting for Haseul to speak first. Every so often, Jinsol would glance towards Haseul’s hands, watching her fingers tap against her mug. She only wished she could take those hands into her own and bring them to a still, and be the cause to her calm.

“$6,000,” Haseul said suddenly.

“What?”

“They said I would need to pay $6,000 out-of-pocket. For Yeojin’s procedure. For just a chance.”

“Oh,” Jinsol processed. Carefully, she asked, “Do you know… The chances?”

“70%.”

Again, “Oh.”

“Yeah. Doctor says I need to be more hopeful, or whatever. So I’m just gonna assume that it’ll work.”

“Okay.” A beat passed. “And… The money?”

“Mm, I have a plan.”

Jinsol cocked her head. “What?”

As if it were the most obvious answer, Haseul replied, “The boxing tournament in two weeks. Winner gets $10,000. I’ve won it every year since I started doing it. Something, something, ‘History repeats itself.’”

Jinsol swallowed before speaking. “Look, Haseul. You and I both know the circumstances have shifted a bit out of your favor.”

Haseul frowned. “You’re acting rather off-brand.”

“I’m just saying!” Jinsol raised her hands in defense. “You can’t do the same thing you do every year and expect to win again this time around.”

“I know that.” Haseul rolled her eyes. “Obviously I’ll work harder this year, I have to. Especially since…”

Jinsol sensed the tone shift. “What?”

Haseul lowered her voice. “… Doctor says that the medication for my knee won’t mix well… With the boosters.”

Jinsol’s realization was silent, her mouth opening slightly. Haseul took another sip from her mug, letting the liquid pool on her tongue before swallowing. It burned.

“So if I want my knee to get better, then… Yeah.” Haseul chewed on her bottom lip and the bitterness that touched upon it.

“You know, I’d be lying if I said this didn’t make me somewhat relieved,” Jinsol admitted. “I always thought that stuff did more harm than good. And needles…” A shiver ripped through her. “They freak me out.”

Bitingly, “Well, I’m glad you’re happy.”

“Haseul.” Jinsol looked at her pointedly. “Don’t be like that.”

“Like what?”

“You know what I mean. You fought just as well before you started juicing.”

“Ah, yes.” Haseul raised her eyebrows. “That’s why I didn’t win _shit_ before.”

“Drugs didn’t make you do better, they just made you _think_ you could. It was a confidence thing. And there’s no reason to be unconfident now, because you could probably still kick ass with two broken legs.”

“See! There’s my ‘glass half-full’ girl!” Normally, Haseul’s wide smile would make Jinsol perk up too. Instead, her head fell into her palms.

Jinsol squeezed her head in her hands. “I still think you’re crazy for even entering the tournament in the first place.”

“And I think you’re crazy for ordering coffee every time we go out even though you hate it every time.” Smugly, “Makes the two of us.”

Jinsol blushed, looking away. “The coffee bit always makes you laugh, so I like doing it.”

Suddenly, the smile dropped from Haseul’s face. Consequently, Jinsol’s heart dropped, and words began spilling forth.

“Haseul, I’m not saying I don’t believe that you can win the tournament. I just think that you should have some sort of back-up plan in case things don’t pan out.”

“Jinsol—"

“I know your mom’s old lawyer circle has major money. They’d probably be happy to help out a beloved friend’s daughter, and a few thousand bucks would mean nothing to them.”

“Jinsol—"

“And if push comes to shove, I could pay for it. I have good connections too, and you know—”

“Jinsol!” Haseul slammed a hand on the table, drawing unwanted attention their way again. Jinsol coughed, choking back her next sentence.

“Yes?” she whispered.

“I just…” The strangers turned back, leaving Jinsol and Haseul to their own little bubble again. “I can’t ask for other people’s help. _I’m_ the one who did this to her.”

“Haseul…”

She held a hand up. “Please don’t try to say otherwise.”

So she didn’t.

“And I can’t fix any of this right now, because _I’m_ the one who fucked around with mom’s money too much. And, like… I just messed everything up so badly. I need to fix it. _Me_.”

“Baby…” Jinsol reached for her hand. “You don’t have to do it alone…”

To Jinsol’s surprise, Haseul pulled away. Her heart dropped again.

Breathlessly, “… What?”

Haseul closed her eyes. “Jinsol…”

Stronger this time, “What?”

“I know… You care a lot about me. And I care about you too. But… You and I both know that it’s not the same. We don’t… _Feel_ the same.” Haseul’s words were heavy in her mouth, so her jaw moved slowly. She spoke precisely and cautiously.

“Mm hmm.” Their drinks were still rippling from Haseul’s impact upon the table, waves rolling to and from their cups’ rims. She knew Haseul was trying to be serious, so Jinsol swallowed laughs that crept up her throat, crossing her arms and appearing to listen intently.

“So, I feel bad when you keep helping me. Not because I know part of you is helping because you care about me, but because I also know that another part of you is helping because you want me to… Feel… Like you do. And you know that if it were my choice, it’d be that way. You’re great, you’re really great. Great talk, great sex, great everything. But, like… We’ve talked about this a million times before… And… You know that we’re not happening.”

“Uh huh.” Jinsol brought her fork back to life, stirring her drink again. “So what I’m hearing is, you want me to stop trying to win your affection because—as you say—it’s never gonna’ happen?”

Haseul nodded solemnly.

“So does this little spiel of yours change any of our plans after breakfast?”

Haseul shook her head.

Jinsol smirked. “Then I’m not gonna’ stop trying.”

Haseul rolled her eyes again. “You’re so relentless. And stupid.”

“Well, like you said before—” Jinsol raised her mug, fork still swirling about in it. “‘Makes the two of us.’”

“I’ll cheers to that.”

-

After a short hiatus, Haseul returned to her gym with her knee wrapped and ready to rumble. The familiarity rushed her all at once. Like always, she stepped inside with her right foot first. _For good luck._ She stepped carefully, for this was her injured leg. Immediately, her hair was blown back by the blasting AC, which ran from January’s head to December’s tail to keep the place as cold as a meat locker. _There’s no way this can be a financially stable practice, though who am I to say._

She was embraced warmly by the distinct smell of blood, sweat, and tears, each of which she had shed here. More than a few times, all at once. In each corner of the building, she had once found herself fallen defeated, only to pick herself back up again. (She never failed to do so.) When she looked to the boxing ring, her hand nearly went up. She felt one of many referees pulling her arm to the ceiling, announcing her victory. The audience was always small but fervent, shouting her name over and over with increasing intensity.

_Haseul! Haseul! Haseul!_

The third light from the left wall was still broken, flickering randomly. This is how she knew she was home. Everything stayed the same, and nothing could change that.

Well, except for _one_ thing.

“Who the hell is that?” Haseul asked. She paused mid sit-up, her back off the ground. One leg was raised, her coach helping her stretch her injured knee.

“Hm?” Sooyoung looked to the ring, accidentally pushing Haseul’s knee too close to her chest.

“Ah, Sooyoung!” Haseul winced and swatted her hand away.

“Sorry! Who are you talking about though?”

“Her.” Haseul pointed to the girl bouncing about in the ring. The way her red braids snapped as she moved back and forth reminded Haseul of jump ropes, and she moved floated over the ground while still turning swiftly on her feet gave Haseul whiplash. Even through her headgear, Haseul could see the soft bangs that framed her sharp eyes. Her hands moved in a flurry, landing dozens of hits before she quickly dodged her coach’s swinging arm, only to resume their assault immediately after. Yet, Haseul couldn’t help but think, _She’s cute._ “She new?”

“Yeah, she came in some time during your break. But there’s no way she’s ‘new.’” Sooyoung had let go of Haseul’s leg, the both of them sitting up to stare at the captivating fighter.

“No kidding.” Haseul knitted her eyebrows. “You know her name?”

“I think her real name is Jiwoo, but she mostly goes by Chuu.”

“Chuu?” Haseul scoffed. “What kind of dumb name is that?”

“It’s a dumb name until she has you on your back, nearly passed out.”

Haseul’s eyes went wide. “She’s that good?”

Sooyoung nodded. “You haven’t seen her _really_ fight yet. I’m inclined to believe that she goes by Chuu because she’ll _chew_ you up and spit you out. She doesn’t bark much, but she sure does bite.”

“Shit…” Haseul’s breath quickened, and the pain in her knee suddenly started up again.

“Whoa, relax!” Sooyoung grabbed Haseul by the shoulders, shaking her slightly. Her breathing stopped and she looked Sooyoung in the eye. “Listen. I looked at the tournament bracket, and you’d only ever have to fight her in the finals match. I’m sure you’ll be able to take her down by that time, but right now I need you to focus on winning the first match before you can even think about finals. So stop worrying about her and start concentrating on yourself.”

“Okay.” Haseul looked to the new fighter again.

“Okay.”

“I wanna’ fight her.”

Sooyoung was taken aback. “What the hell?”

“Correction: I’m _gonna’_ fight her. Right now.”

“Did you listen to anything I just said?”

“Great talk, Sooyoung. You’re the best coach a girl could ask for.” Sooyoung made feeble attempts to keep Haseul on the ground, but she broke away, grabbing her boxing gear before (only slightly) limping to her doom.

“Die then.”

Haseul missed Sooyoung’s last words of encouragement as she yelled, “Hey, Jiwoo! Chuu! Whatever! Over here!”

Jiwoo turned away from Haseul first, looking around for the source of the voice that called for her.

“No, over _here_!”

Realizing her mistake with an “_Oh!_”, Jiwoo turned again to face Haseul, who rested crossed arms on the edge of the ring.

Though visibly confused, she waved enthusiastically. “Hi!” Her voice floated in the air like her feet above the ground. Round cheeks pillowed under her eyes as she smiled. _Oh yeah. Major cutie._ Her expression twisted more as she got closer to Haseul, her head cocking. “You look familiar, have we met before?”

“You’ve probably seen my pictures around the gym.” Playing aloof, Haseul had only one arm against the ring now. She blew on her fingernails to dry her non-existent manicure. “I’m the reigning champion here, or whatever. I’ve only won, like, five years in a row.”

“Four!” Sooyoung shouted.

“Five if you include this year.” _Nice save, H-man._ Haseul internally chest-bumped herself before turning to look at Jiwoo again.

“Uh huh.” Jiwoo looked back at her skeptically, cradling her headgear in her arms. “Are you trying to say that you’re winning this year? Because—” Jiwoo tutted, “I think I might be putting a damper on your plans.”

“Oh, really?” Haseul started gearing up. “Let’s fight then.” Planting her hands flat on the platform, Haseul climbed into the ring, grimacing as she banged her bad knee.

“Oh, gosh. Do you need h—”

Haseul recovered quickly, rolling into the ring and springing onto her feet, landing shakily. “Aha, nope! No help needed! Let’s go at it!”

Jiwoo stepped back, glancing briefly at Haseul’s knee before darting back to her eyes. “Um, on second thought… I feel kind of bad boxing an injured person.”

“What, my knee?” Haseul bounced up and down. “Don’t even worry about it, it’s practically as good as new!”

“Um…”

“Cat got your tongue? I guess I’d be worried too; getting beat by someone with a hurt leg would be a big blow to my self-esteem.”

“Okay, just for clarification: that is literally the least of my worries. Don’t act like I didn’t just see you nearly take yourself out while climbing into the ring.”

Haseul’s jaw dropped, then she pouted.

Jiwoo’s enchanting laugh drew Haseul closer. “You’re cute.”

“Takes one to know one,” Haseul quipped back, making Jiwoo blush. “Okay, but seriously. Can we at least, like, spar or something? Chances are, we’re gonna’ be the finals match-up, and if you want a good fight, we need to make sure I’m in tip-top shape.”

“‘We?’” Jiwoo asked incredulously. “Since when did you and I become ‘we?’ And when did _your_ wellbeing become a ‘we’ thing?”

“You made the mistake of responding to me in the first place. Now our lives are intertwined. Like _this_—” Haseul crossed her fingers over one another tightly, then shoved her hand into Jiwoo’s face. She had to cover her mouth with her hand to stifle her laugh. Haseul looked at her smugly. “So, what do you say?” After putting her boxing gloves on, Haseul held out a hand between the two. “Touch gloves if we have a deal.”

“I don’t even know your name.”

“Haseul, but you can call me tonight.” She ended her sentence with a wink.

Jiwoo let out a small cough. (She was probably struggling to down all that grease.) Somehow, Haseul’s charms and arguments—however illogical they were—managed to win her over. “Well then, Miss ‘Tonight.’ I don’t think I have any other choice.” (Not very) reluctantly, Jiwoo bumped her glove against Haseul’s. Excitedly, Haseul scurried into the ring’s center and jumped into stance, Jiwoo following closely behind.

Not a flurry like before, Jiwoo threw just a few punches at a time, all of which Haseul dodged easily. As she ducked on her last dodge, Haseul bent and leaned onto her good leg, then twisted her hips and lunged forward, putting her entire body’s momentum behind her fist. Just as Jiwoo realized that it was too late to defend herself and braced for impact, Haseul intentionally whiffed.

“What was that?” Jiwoo asked, keeping her gloves in front of her. She was surprised not only by Haseul’s speed, but her mercy as well.

“Speak for yourself. Don’t underestimate me because I have a bad knee. I’ve won four years in a row for a reason.” Haseul went for the head, Jiwoo narrowly dodging her jab. Jiwoo squinted at the small foul play, getting fired up. “You could go a little harder, sweetheart,” Haseul added.

“Alright then. Since you asked for it.”

Jiwoo still restrained herself, but much less than before. (Though her bad flirting made it hard to believe,) Jiwoo finally realized Haseul was the four-time reigning boxing champion, and that her work was cut out for her. Their dynamic teetered like a seesaw, each girl pushing and pulling like the tides, baiting and advancing. They sparred like a dance, as if their movements were coordinated with one another. They’d come apart to dodge punches, then move back towards each other like magnets. One of Jiwoo’s hooks left Haseul rubbing at her cheek, still keeping her other arm in front to guard her.

“Ouch,” Haseul huffed. “I thought we were just warming up.”

“I _am_ warming up,” Jiwoo remarked. “Just wait till we have to fight for real, _sweetheart_.”

When Jiwoo leapt forward again, she accidentally knocked into Haseul’s bad knee, pushing it sideways. It was as if electricity suddenly struck her body, and she couldn’t recover. Her body followed suit, collapsing on the platform. Her head thudded harshly, yet its pain was largely overshadowed by the fire coursing through her leg as she clutched it so tightly, she nearly pierced her own skin. She felt the pain all over, her head throbbing loudly.

Jiwoo scrambled to kneel beside her. “Oh my gosh, Haseul! I’m so sorry!”

“_Fuck_,” Haseul muttered, not quiet enough for Jiwoo to miss it.

“I’m so, so sorry. Are you okay?”

“It was an accident, don’t worry about it. Just help me up.”

“Yeah, okay. I’ll take you to the locker room.”

-

_“Yeojin, can you please just talk to me?”_

_Yeojin looked out the passenger seat window, holding onto her seatbelt. She didn’t even open her mouth. _

_“C’mon dude. Say something, just so I can make sure you’re still alive over there.” Haseul took her eyes off the road for a moment to look at her, hoping she wasn’t any angrier than before._

_Yeojin turned further away from her, pulling her knees to her chest and dirtying her seat with her shoes. Her feet got caught in her long, fancy dress, so she kicked them free, getting dirt on herself as well. Her hair was tightly wrapped in a bun and sat atop her head like a dumpling. Haseul could see steam rising from it._

_Just as she looked back at the road, she found the car in front of them quickly approaching. More so, her car was barreling toward disaster. Her boxer instincts kicking in, she slammed the brakes, her car skidding forward until it just ghosted the other’s bumper. The sudden stop kicked Yeojin out of her seat, forcing her feet back onto the car floor. Oblivious to it all, the car in front kept driving like normal, pulling away. Once there was enough distance between them and her adrenaline diminished, Haseul began driving again, keeping the same reckless speed. Yeojin rolled her eyes. Without looking at Haseul, she grunted—‘well, I definitely know she’s alive’—and curled up in her seat like before._

_Haseul tried to alleviate the situation. “What, no jokes from you?” She reached over to pat her bun, but Yeojin reached behind to swat them away. ‘Curse the eyes on the back of her head.’_

_Yeojin was definitely angrier._

_Haseul took her hand back, bringing it back to the wheel. She placed it on top at 12 o’ clock, then let it slide to 4, tracing the circumference with one finger. She swallowed, full with guilt. Even when she looked, she could hardly focus on the road in front of her. _

_“Yeo. I forgot. And I know I shouldn’t have forgotten, and that you told me about your concert like, a hundred times, but that’s what happened. I’m sorry, it just slipped my mind.”_

_Haseul expected an explosion, maybe. Yeojin has done that before. Gotten all red in the face, screaming and yelling. About how Haseul didn’t just forget because she forgot, but because she didn’t care. That everything else seemed to matter more to her. That she knew Haseul was probably partying with friends, or fucking Jinsol, and that she hated it. She’d cry about how Haseul almost totaled her fourth car this year. How she was throwing away all their mom’s money, and about how terrible it is that she’s taking such advantage of someone who can’t possibly defend herself now. How Haseul was a terrible daughter, and maybe an even worse sister. She’d attack and beat on every one of Haseul’s flaws, and she was prepared to take it._

_But Yeojin didn’t say any of that. Instead, she posed a simple question._

_“Do you still like music?”_

_Subconsciously, Haseul was changing lanes to exit off the freeway. “What?”_

_Yeojin’s breathing trembled as she prepared to ask again. But she never got to._

_Before Haseul could realize she forgot to look, another car going far-and-above the speed limit rammed into her passenger side. Her car rebounded, flying off to the left side of the road into the shoulder. The car spun countless times, and if Haseul hadn’t held firmly onto the wheel and pressed her back into her seat, she would’ve been bounced around the interior like a ping pong ball. Once the view outside the window was no longer a blur, she looked around to assess damages. Her side was fine, as it was opposite of the crash. Hardly a dent to the car nor herself, except for her right knee. But she wouldn’t notice her own injury yet._

_When she looked to the passenger side, the door was concave. The seat was uplifted from its spot, leaning towards the center. And when she looked at Yeojin, there was none of her fire. She sat slumped, pulling on her seat belt. Eyes closed, a stream of blood trailed carefully over an eyelid and down her cheek._

_“Yeojin?”_

_Haseul reached over to unbuckle her seatbelt and she fell onto the center console. Haseul grabbed her shoulders and pushed her upright, but her head still hung low. As if she still refused to speak to Haseul._

_Louder this time, “Yeojin? Please!”_

_Pushing against her torso with one hand, Haseul grabbed Yeojin by the chin and forced her head up. She yelled, “Look at me!” even though she knew Yeojin couldn’t. Irrationally persistent, just over and over, “Look at me! Look at me!” But nothing. Her sister still wouldn’t speak._

_ When she leaned forward and held their faces close, she felt the slightest warmth. Yeojin was still breathing. And she cried, pulling her in and holding her close, grateful that her fire still burned._

_She repeated her name over and over like a prayer. “Yeojinnie, Yeojinnie, Yeojinnie.” Yeojin’s chin dug into her shoulder as she wrapped her arms about her snugly. Tears poured onto Yeojin’s shirt. A hand reached up to her little dumpling, shaking as she tried to pat it smooth. Instead, her fingers got caught in her hair._

_With Yeojin’s ears pressed against her lips, Haseul whispered, “Please.” She begged, “Say something.”_

_The other driver was found under the influence and arrested. But Haseul was the one who was out of her lane. _

-

“I thought I had them in my bag…” Haseul muttered, digging through all her junk.

“Do you need help?” Jiwoo asked, standing awkwardly by the lockers. Haseul straddled a bench with her duffel bag unzipped and splayed open before her, hands moving furiously. Jiwoo leaned a little too far and surprised herself by brushing against a locker, yelping. Haseul looked up to the sound, smiling as she watched Jiwoo jump away from the cold metal as if it were a raging fire.

Jiwoo looked back at her, blushing. “Don’t laugh at me! And answer my question.”

“I wasn’t laughing!” Haseul held one hand to her heart and the other up. “Scout’s honor.” She resumed rifling through her bag. “And no, I don’t need help. The painkillers should be in here.” After another minute without success, Haseul mumbled, “Maybe I left them at home…”

Jiwoo chimed in, “I have some painkillers in my locker, if that’d be okay with you.”

“Nah. I have some that I keep for emergencies like this, and they’re super strong. Like, they’re the Big Kahuna.” Haseul looked up to smile at her again. “But thank you though.”

Jiwoo blushed again. “It’s no problem, really.” She was under Haseul’s spell, even though she had never heard of the term ‘Big Kahuna’ before. Just a moment passed and Jiwoo had a better idea. “Why don’t you check your locker? You’ve probably stashed some in there at some point.”

Once Jiwoo swept all the dust off the light bulb above Haseul’s head, it _ding_-ed, glowing brightly. “That’s a great idea!” Not too carefully, Haseul swung her bad leg around and over the bench so she could stand, then started hopping towards the locker Jiwoo was leaning against. With a poor sense of balance, Haseul stuck her arms out at her sides, waving them around as she bounded toward her destination. Thanks to gravity, she felt every little hop in her knee.

“Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow ow ow ow ow owowowowowowowowow.” Her hops got smaller but more frequent as she neared her target.

Making way for her, Jiwoo headed over to were Haseul was, her bag still open. Beside it, she stood awkwardly again. With Haseul’s back turned completely against her, Jiwoo looked down, peeking into it without shame. She always had an insatiable curiosity, and maybe she was kind of annoyed that Haseul didn’t let her help earlier. Some glass glinted under the locker room light, catching Jiwoo’s eye. Like Haseul, it was familiar too, so she reached down and picked it up. Realizing what it was, Haseul’s spell was broken.

“Yes!” Haseul ripped open the Ziploc bag containing her treasure, swallowing two pills dry. “Ah…” she sighed, as if she just drank a whole glass of water. Turning, she began, “Thanks for the idea, Ji—”

A dark cloud had surrounded Jiwoo, clinging onto her broad shoulders. She looked down to her hands, her bangs shielding her eyes, so her emotions were indiscernible. In her hands, a small, empty glass vial. The contents were used up dry, and the label was scratched out.

“Why did you look through my stuff?” Haseul tried to sound menacing, but she couldn’t conceal how her voice wavered.

Without looking up from her hands, “I’ve been boxing way too long to _not_ know what this is.”

_She sounds angry._

“So what?” Haseul asked.

“So nothing. I just… Maybe it was your vibe or something, but I really didn’t expect this from you.”

_Now she sounds disappointed._

“How do you get away with using this?” Jiwoo asked.

Haseul gulped. “I have… Connections. Well, my friend does. And… Money, usually.”

“Oh… So, it probably wouldn’t matter if I brought this little issue up with the gym, huh? Since—”

“_NO!_” Haseul’s eyes shots open and she dashed toward the blackmailer.

However, Jiwoo quickly pocketed the evidence, making Haseul stop short, out of breath. When she looked up, Haseul found a terrible grin sketched all across her face, and her sharp eyes became daggered. Blood drained from her face, Haseul no longer wondered whether she was afraid.

“What’s the problem, _sweetheart_?” The term of endearment was anything but, and Haseul’s skin crawled.

“There’s no more money now…” Maintaining her resolve, “… No more connections either.” _No more Jinsol_.

“Interesting…” She drew the word out, each syllable distinct and haunting.

Haseul held her breath.

Jiwoo stepped forward slowly but relentlessly, each step pushing Haseul further into a corner. Predator encroaching upon its prey, she suddenly grabbed Haseul’s hands.

“What are you doing?” she asked, still scared. But her heart raced for more than one reason.

Jiwoo remained silently, leaving Haseul’s hands alone to trail up her arms, over her shoulders, then to her neck. Her hands surrounded Haseul’s neck first, so she could feel when the other swallowed nervously. Her fingers wrapped around lightly, like a boa constrictor before she gets too hungry.

Haseul felt her thumbs pressing against her throat as she asked, “What do you want from me?”

Jiwoo moved her hands to Haseul’s jaw, her thumbs tracing it until they rested by Haseul’s ears. Claw-like, Jiwoo’s hands held her head. Instead of stepping forward one more time, Jiwoo pulled Haseul by the head closer. The rest of her body followed clumsily.

When Haseul regained composure, Jiwoo’s body was nearly pressed up against hers. Her arms were now wrapped behind her shoulders, and her eyes were piercing.

“Please,” Haseul whispered, staring into daggers. “I’ll do anything.”

“Yeah, I know.”

When Jiwoo kissed her, Haseul felt it was worth going blind. Frozen before, her own arms snaked around Jiwoo’s waist, pulling their bodies together. Again, they moved like a dance. To chase after the other’s lips only to pull back, feeding the fire. To tug at each other’s shirts, making the material loose and wrinkly. So persistent and unforgiving, Haseul would’ve drowned in her fever had Jiwoo not spared some mercy. Jiwoo pulled away just for a second. As soon as Haseul took one deep breath, she attacked again.

Unlike in her matches, Haseul felt scattered. She failed to anticipate Jiwoo’s tongue pressing against her lips, as well as light tugs on her hair. Interpreting her moan as invitation, Jiwoo moved further into their kiss, sliding in and out of Haseul. Somehow, Haseul was still scared. But she couldn’t stop.

When Haseul slipped a hand under Jiwoo’s shirt, searing her hand on Jiwoo’s hot back, her hands were suddenly pushed away, and the two fell apart. Jiwoo now stood an armlength away, which was one armlength too far for Haseul’s liking. Defeatedly, her hands flopped to her sides.

“Did I go too far?” Haseul asked.

“Hm…” Jiwoo pretended to think about it. “No. Actually, I think not far enough.”

“What?” Haseul crossed her arms. “I don’t understand. This is what you want, right?”

Jiwoo nodded.

“So why’d you stop me?”

Jiwoo looked side to side, twiddling her thumbs like a child. However, as Haseul learned now, she couldn’t trust Jiwoo’s outward image so easily. It seemed impossible for someone to draw so much fear yet seem so innocent. The phenomenon stood just before her, rocking from heel to toe. “Because…” she began.

“I know I can have you anytime I want.”

Haseul hoped the words would bounce off of her, but they stuck themselves into her skin.

She bluffed. “That’s not true.”

“You sure?”

When Jiwoo stepped forward, Haseul immediately did so too, mirroring her movement. They both brought themselves a step closer to one another. And what scared Haseul most wasn’t that her action was automatic. Rather, it was the opposite. Taking a step toward Jiwoo was deliberate, meaningful. And all too telling. Like a snake charmer, Jiwoo had Haseul wrapped around her finger, getting Haseul all confused as to what each of their roles were meant to be.

Jiwoo pulled the vial back out, showing it off this time. “I think I’m gonna’ save this bad boy for something _real_ important.”

“I…” Haseul couldn’t say much.

“Catch you later?”

Haseul nodded.

Jiwoo smiled. “Cool.” She collected herself and headed toward an exit. Without even looking back, she remarked, “Nice meeting you today.”

“Nice meeting you, too,” Haseul returned. But the door had already closed, Jiwoo already gone. Haseul stood alone in the locker room.

She retrieved her phone from her bag to text Jinsol:

_“Hey, wyd?”_

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading if u got all the way down here <3 this was originally meant to be a one-shot, but i realized while writing that this fic would be pretty long and i write super slow, so pls let me know if i should continue writing this and i'll try to write as fast as i can! (mostly because i have no outline so i need to get the story down while all the plot points are still in my head lol)
> 
> twt: [@yeojinakgae_](https://twitter.com/yeojinakgae_)  
cc: [@montegobae](https://curiouscat.me/montegobae)  
[the song of inspiration! pls check it out!! i luv this song!!!](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3tcbxVU6inM)


End file.
